As graduation
night approached, Grandma realized that we had a problem. The previous year my mother had ordered a
suit for me out of the catalogue. It was
a two-piece made out of off-white nubbed cotton material. Unfortunately, I never liked it because it
came in the mail just when I was terribly sick with yellow jaundice. She thought it would make me feel better to
see my new suit so she showed it to me when I was so sick I wanted to throw up
on it—and the suit and especially putting it on reminded me of how sick I had
been and made me queasy.
That was not the
real problem. The problem was that I had
grown so much in six months that my arms and legs stuck out of that suit two or
three inches. There was no way it could
be altered. Fortunately, the folks had
sent money for clothes and Grandma had bought a grey worsted suit with a
zippered jacket for me in the fall. The
legs and sleeves were only about an inch too short. Grandma let them down as far as she could
and, with a white shirt and necktie, we made that do.
I can recall
graduation night in great detail because of some mementoes that Grandma Stanley
saved and passed along to my mother.
They are a copy of that night’s commencement program with the notes I
used on the podium hand written on the back, and the little table paper
original manuscript of my valedictory address in my handwriting.
How Grandma got
them was that I had folded them up before I departed and left them in the
secret “safe” I had made in my bedroom by cutting a hole through the wallboard
and inserting a square metal can. I used
a photograph if Lindberg’s Lockheed Orion float-mounted monoplane to cover
it. I was embarrassed to admit to
Grandpa that I had cut a hole in the wall so I left the little papers there and
secured the photograph to the wall over it with gummed paper tape.
There was a total
of seventeen of us in that graduating class and the church was filled with
family and friends. Some had to stand up
in the back. I was very sorry that my
mother and father could not be present but Grandma and Grandpa were in the
front row. The class was seated on the
raised platform behind the lectern that was used for the pulpit during church
services.
My Uncle Claud
Frieze, an elder in the church, rendered the invocation, then there was a song
and after that Mary Neil delivered her salutatory address without making a mistake
or being prompted. I was sitting with
sweaty palms hoping that I could do as well.
She was followed by County School Superintendent James Becker from
Walnut Grove who made the commencement address.
I did not really hear a word of it as I was concentrating too hard on
what I had to say. After another song,
it came my turn.
I approached the
lectern with my kneecaps jerking but then, as I laid my page of notes before me
and looked at the upturned familiar faces, something happened. I felt good about being there and I addressed
them in a clear, confident voice to deliver the following rather pontifical but
sincere address that I had written.
“Friends,
teachers, and classmates: We, the
graduating class of ’37 of Bona High School, are standing tonight in a period
of transition. It is that period in
which we leave our happy pasts behind us and step out to meet our futures in
whatever way may be our destiny.
“The success of
the future, which is as yet unknown, depends—in a large mearuse upon the
foundation we have laid for it in the past few years we have been sheltered in
these halls of learning.
“We have been
guided all along by our teachers to whom we owe a debt of deepest gratitude we
can only attempt to repay.
“Ever since we
entered the sphere of their influence we have been looking eagerly forward to
this even which will be the second most important milestone in our lives. We considered we had reached the first when
we sat in this place two years ago. Now
that the event has come again we welcome it with the realization that it is
with a definite sense of sadness we gather here tonight.
“We have paused at
the turning of the way and as we look out from the shelter we have always had
onto the problems of the future, we realize how very insignificant we are and
how important we falsely thought we were.
But still we must realize that others will drop out of the scheme of
things and we must be prepared to step in and play our part—however small it
may be.
“Parents and
Friends: We cannot leave this stage of life’s action without thaniking you from
the bottom of our hearts for the start you have given us. We realize that if it had not been for your
guidance we would never have made the start we did and would not have overcome
many of the obstacles we have succeeded so far in in surmounting.
“You, as well as
our teachers, have guided and sheltered us from the problems of life we were
incapable of meeting alone; and when we were seemingly adrift and off course,
you provided the beacon that guided us safely back again.
“To our Teachers
we must also extend our earnest thanks.
None of us realize how very often in the years to come we will look back
and then begin to really appreciate the help you gave us. Doubtless there will be times when we will wish
with all our hearts that we could return to the shelter of that guiding
hand. But you have started us on the
road to success we long for and have pointed the way to completion of the
journey of our lives with an efficiency we can only hope to attain in our works
as we go on.
“And may you ever
be proud to point us out as products of your workmanship. I am sure that if at last we achieve the
success we long for we will not take all the credit for ourselves, but will
give a large share to those to whom it belongs—our teachers.
(I turned to the
class.)
“And thus,
classmates, we linger at the crossroads, the parting of the ways, in that last
sad parting so long looked forward to. Our race together is almost run and we are
nearing the end of the course where we must go forth, each to battle for himself.
“Doubtless, while
we linger in this period of our lives, we all dream of great deeds and high
positions in life, but—let us not hope for too much as we all realize that it
is much better to fill a small job or position to overflowing rather than to be
lost in a job too big for us that someone else might fill.
“By all means we
must retain our ambition and dream of those bigger things in life, but let us
not ruin the life we are destined to lead by grasping for that beyond our
reach. As Malloch says in his immortal
poem, ‘be the best of whatever you are’: ‘If you can’t be a pine of the top of
the hill, be a scrub in the valley, but be the best little scrub by the side of
the rill. Be a bush if you can’t be a
tree. If you can’t be a bush, be a bit
of grass, and some highway happier make.
If you can’t be a muskie, then just be a bass, but the liveliest bass in
the lake. We can’t all be captains, some
have to be crew, There’s something for all of us here. There’s big work to do, and lesser to do, and
the task you must do is the near. If you
can’t be a highway, then just be a trail.
If you can’t be a sun, be a star—it isn’t by size that you win or you
fail, but the best of whatever you are.’
“I thank you all.”
I returned to my
seat to gratifying applause from the audience, the faculty, and my
classmates. Grandma and Grandpa were beaming
proudly and Grandma folded away the written copy of my speech.
My address was
followed by the presentation of diplomas by Mr. John Hembree of Stockton. The benediction was then given by my grandfather,
C. B. Stanley, in that incomparable sonorous voice that he used for recitals at
community gathers and to render the morning prayer at church services.
My years a Bona
School were finished. Now I was finally
ready to leave the Ozark hills.
